


Like Finding Wings

by hawkesquad



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Anal Sex, Childhood Friends, Cock Piercing, First Time, Love Confessions, M/M, Oral Sex, Slight AU (Post-Sburb)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-28
Updated: 2013-01-28
Packaged: 2017-11-27 06:52:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/659124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawkesquad/pseuds/hawkesquad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He finally composes himself. The words come out of his mouth before you have a chance to apologize again. “Fuck you, Egbert.” His voice sounds raw and you bet his throat hurts. “Have you ever had cum try to shoot out of your nose? Well? Fucking have you? Because it’s not fucking pleasant.” You don’t bother to answer and you know he doesn’t want you to.</p><p>“S-sorry,” you say simply.</p><p>“Not yet, you’re not,” he snaps. “Roll the fuck over, John.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Finding Wings

**Author's Note:**

> So this was just sort of a thing I felt like writing. Working on that whole realistic sex thing that I'm not so great at and slightly indulging a piercing fetish and getting my DaveJohn on, all at once. It's not very good. I'm so sorry, please don't stone me. 'orz

Overall, he’s slightly smaller than you in the pants, slightly taller than you in height, and slightly slimmer than you in physique. You love every inch of his body. It’s too bad it took an “ironic” offer to give you the best blowjob of your life for the two of you to get in bed together.

You knit your fingers loosely through his hair. You’re not sure if it’s doing anything for him, but you’ve seen enough movies to know that when someone’s planting feather light kisses along your thighs and around your aching erection like a medieval torturer in training, you can’t just sit there and watch.

His tongue inches inward, transitioning from thigh to pelvis, and lightly presses against your balls. It slides up your dick to nudge at the tip. You moan. The hot puff of air against your raw skin betrays his amusement.

This _is_ torture. You’re loving it.

“Dave, oh...” Your fingers slide down to the nape of his neck, the light blond strands falling haphazardly around your white knuckles. “Shit, Dave, quit teasing me.”

He looks up at you in mock humility, almost convincingly cowed, but only almost. In a moment, his tongue has pulled away from your cock, leaving your length painfully neglected as he slips out of his shirt. He’s perched on his knees in between your legs, which are spread embarrassingly wide. He insisted, but you want to draw them closer together out of principle.

His gaze makes you feel more than naked. It makes you feel cut open and laid bare and you’re not sure how to feel about how much that turns you on.

He insisted that you get naked at the beginning, but refused to remove his own clothing. He’s over that now. His hands trail slowly down his hips to begin unbuttoning his pants, a smirk inhabiting his unexpectedly pink lips. You curse under your breath. You could bust from just looking at the slide of fabric away from his burgeoning bulge. He knows it.

You want to grab him. You want to fuck him against a wall, hard and fast, until he’s screaming your name and begging to cum. Instead you sit and you wait and you watch.

“Look at you, princess. Who knew you could be such a slut? God damn, I haven’t done shit yet—” His hands slip his boxers down over those smooth, wiry hips. A piercing. What the fuck. “—and you’re already hard as hell. Fuck, dude, do you know what you look like right now?”

Your hands shake as your need gnaws at you. You grin up at him, his shades obscuring those eyes you’ve only seen in darkened rooms. It’s well-lit now, and all you want to do is bat the sunglasses away and stare into those red targets like they’re all you need to survive. Your grin turns predatory.

You move. He’s fast enough to stop you, but he doesn’t even try, and you pluck those thick, black aviators from his face. “What do I look like right now?” Your voice erupts in a low rumble, and the sheer timbre of it unnerves you. It’s foreign to you, and you hope it doesn’t disturb him.

You hold his shades in your hands, expecting to stare up into at least a disdainful expression. What you see is more accurately described as lusty. The cherry red gaze pins you and fills your body with heat, radiating from your stomach outward, filling your limbs. His hand flits forward and he lightly flicks your cock, earning a soft gasp and an involuntary jerk of your hips.

“A two dollar whore, Egbert,” he whispers gruffly, your name a prayer on his lips. He forces you down by the shoulders. His mouth mashes violently against yours, a tangle of tongues and teeth. It hurts, just a little, but you want it, _need_ it.

The two of you grip at each other in what could probably qualify as a sensual manner, but it turns quickly into a pseudo wrestle. Neither of you are truly willing to relinquish dominance in this situation. Your patience has all but vaporized in the fires of your need to get off. You grab for him, trying to roll your collective mass into a position more geared toward your control. He jerks backward and away from you. You snarl, and that earns you a raised eyebrow.

You can’t help it, you blush. “S-sorry,” you say, and your eyes flick away. For all your twenty-two years, you’re still shy when it comes to anything even remotely connected to romance. Dave had wanted to fuck you, not cuddle up to you, and you know that, but being the awkward little kid he grew up knowing doesn’t help your case in excusing weird bedroom noises.

A second later, he’s all breathy laughter and gentle, moist kisses on your stomach. Your eyes meet and his head raises, his lips pressing softly to yours. It might as well not have happened for all that it lasted. Not long after, he’s trailing his way back down your stomach and wrapping his lips around your dick and _fuck_ , all you want is to build monuments for Dave motherfucking Strider’s tongue.

You thrust upward roughly into his mouth, and he lets you. When his head jerks forward at the same time as one of your thrusts, all you can feel is the back of his throat and a pleasure that you’d never felt before shooting through you. You scream his name and cum suddenly. You didn’t expect it and forgot to warn him.

He gags, choking and sputtering as he pulls back. Not even the force of your orgasm can tear you away from the guilt and concern. You shudder your way into a sitting position and put a hand out, touching his shoulder. “Oh shit, Dave, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

He coughs, puts a hand up in the universal “wait a goddamn minute” gesture, and wipes frantically at his lips. He doesn’t want you to catch him being so drastically uncool, you realize, and it makes you giggle. The look he shoots you could freeze lava.

Your dick is a sticky mess in between your legs, covered in saliva and cum. It’s blessedly soft. Without it distracting you, all you can think about is Dave.

He finally composes himself. The words come out of his mouth before you have a chance to apologize again. “Fuck you, Egbert.” His voice sounds raw and you bet his throat hurts. “Have you ever had cum try to shoot out of your nose? Well? Fucking _have_ you? Because it’s not fucking pleasant.” You don’t bother to answer and you know he doesn’t want you to.

“S-sorry,” you say simply.

“Not yet, you’re not,” he snaps. “Roll the fuck over, John.”

You blink. “What?”

“Did I stutter?” His tone is acidic but you can see the shadow of a smile prancing around the corners of his mouth. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I didn’t get a chance to blow my load in my best bro’s mouth like a total asshole, so we’re gonna make up for that. Roll over and spread your goddamn cheeks.”

You feel a blush shoot up from your toes to your ears. “Dave, I—“ You don’t finish. You don’t know what to say. _‘I’ve never done this.’ ‘I’m scared.’ ‘I want you so bad that I’d do anything.’ ‘Fuck me fuck me fuck me fuck me fuck me...’_ You suck in a breath and “roll the fuck over” finally, and Dave moves in between your legs, knocking your knees apart.

For a moment, you feel nothing. Then, the slight shifting of the bed, the sound of something clicking, and then, finally, a cold press at the entrance to your hole. You shudder. It was almost icy. You are certain he did it on purpose.

You don’t have much confidence in the success of this endeavor.

After a few slow circles, though, you feel warm and flustered. His finger teases at the muscle, rubbing slowly. He’s surprisingly gentle when he pushes in just a little ways, and you can feel the generous extent to which he’s coated his digits in lube.

For all that he’s a total bastard, he’s still very considerate. You moan without meaning to and you hear him laugh. “You’re such a little slut, Egbert. Such a dirty, dirty, little slut.” He’s crooning. You love it. The way those words fall off his lips, you could not give fewer fucks about what he’s saying.

Even if dirty talk didn’t turn you on the way it does, you could listen to Dave Strider read the entire ingredient list of fresh corn on the cob over and over as long as he whispered it seductively in your ear.

You can feel his hot cock pressed rock hard against your inner thighs. You rock a little bit to give him some friction and earn a little hiss of pleasure. At the same time, his finger presses in a little further, and you feel the first hints of discomfort. It’s not a bad feeling, really, just strange. It hadn’t stopped being strange since he started. You wonder if it’s going to get better.

He seems to sense it in the way you stiffen up. “Relax, Egbert. You’re too tense. I promise this shit’ll feel real fucking good soon enough.” You take a deep breath and let out a chopped sigh. He slips a second finger in and you groan.

How had it come to this? You think back. Reunion with friend after months abroad? Check. Totally kickin’ soiree courtesy of Kanaya and Rose? Check. Dave challenging you to what can only be politely referred to as a suck off? Check. It had gone from a casual game of ‘Who Gives Better Head?’ to ‘How Can John Egbert Make Up For Being A Total Asshole?’ Dave is going to fuck you and you are going to let him.

Furthermore, you want him to. You’ll never admit it, but your little crush on Dave from way back when he saved your ass in-game has finally caught up to you. You want his cock in your ass ramming against your tight walls and you want to feel him splitting you. You want it to hurt and you want him to gasp out obscenities in your ears until your head feels like it’s going to explode.

And you’re getting your wish.

Slowly, his fingers scissor in and out. He adds a third. The pressure has become easier to deal with, so you rock your hips upward and try to work with him. It almost feels good, you decide. Almost.

Finally, he whispers, “You ready, Egbert?” You nod, not trusting your voice to not be hoarse as all hell.

You hear a plastic tearing noise and grin. You hadn’t thought about protection, but you’re glad he did. You’re constantly in awe of how prepared he forces himself to be in order to maintain that cool guy image. You love him with your whole heart, and you will never tell him that if you can help it. “Turn over,” he says softly, and you do, facing him now. You swoon at the flushed sight of him, sans sunglasses, rose red eyes a little sunrise beneath his sultry blond-lashed lids.

Then you feel him pressing the tip against your opening, and all your good feelings fade away to anxiety. He places one hand reassuringly on your hip, strokes his thumb in little circles to sooth you, and pushes into you.

You inhale sharply.

Your first thought is that it hurts like hell. Your second is that it’s a lot fucking bigger when it’s inside of you than it is outside.

“Ow, fuck, Dave, please. Wait, oh Gog, please...” You’re muttering nonsense after that and it takes you a moment to realize that Dave has in fact not moved at all since he pushed in. You take deep breaths and you feel his hands, both of them, easing over your back and down across your ass to rest on your thighs.

“Shh, John, it’s okay,” he says softly. It’s more tender than anything you’ve ever heard him say in all the time you’ve known him. “It’ll be okay. Just breathe, yeah, just like that. Relax...” He’s rubbing you gently and it feels good in contrast to the pain. You aren’t sure why it hurts so much. Even with your basic experience in the sack, you know Dave did it right. He was careful.

You’re not sure why he keeps saying ‘relax’ over and over again until it dawns on you how tense you are. With an act of will, you force yourself to calm down, slowly relaxing every muscle in your body and lying limply beneath your favorite Strider. You can feel his Prince Albert inside of you, just a lump behind the film of the condom. Noting it brings a shudder to you that you’re not prepared to deal with.

He whispers a question. What was that? You didn’t quite hear it. He repeats it, “Are you okay?”

You nod. “Y-yeah. Sorry. I’ve never done this,” you respond. A breathy laugh tears its way from you. He strokes a finger along your taint and over your testes before palming your dick. It’s anything but hard, but you can’t deny that the pressure feels nice.

He smiles so sweetly at you that your heart explodes in your chest. This is it, you think to yourself. You must’ve died at some point and this is your heaven. He murmurs that he’s going to push in and you nod mindlessly, caught up in the rapidly quickening press of his hand against your sensitive cock. It’s half hard against your will and the touch is so warm that you want to get it up again in spite of the tenderness.

He leans forward. You let out a cry like a struck cat. A hand shoots forward to gently stroke your shoulder, your neck, your face. “John, calm down, tell me if it hurts,” he says softly, urgently. You see real concern in his features and you smile. You smile because it’s not that painful right at the moment. Yes, it hurts, but more than that it’s just the pressure that’s getting to you. It’s so fucking _tight_.

At the look on your face, he rocks his hips gently. The gasps that issue from you for the next few minutes come from a source of mixed pain, pleasure, and uncertainty. You’re not sure how much you still want to do this, but you can see the flush creeping over your best friend’s pale skin in the evening sunlight that shines on him in full.

You want that sight to never stop. You want to always see the half open curve of his beautiful mouth, shockingly rosy and sweet despite the viciousness that could come out of it. You want to always see the way his eyes glaze over with the pleasure of penetrating you.

So you moan and play along. He doesn’t have to know how this isn’t doing it for you, how the hand he strokes you with is becoming a pain in the ass (no pun intended), how the sensations rolling over you are starting to make you want to pull away and run. You’re doing your best and you hope he’s about to reach climax.

You let out a particularly encouraging noise when he finally stills. You know he’s not done, so your eyes roll up from the sight of him pushing into you to meet a pair of frustrated, red ones staring back at you. “John, how fucking stupid do you think I am? You’re not half as into all this shit as you’re making yourself out to be.” He pulls out of you and you feel a sudden, strange sense of emptiness.

“Dave?” You’re confused. “I promise, this is good. Come on, don’t stop.”

He simply moves up and flops onto his back beside you, putting one hand on yours and lacing your fingers together. You don’t expect it and it shocks you a little, but you feel a smile erupting on your face before you can intercept it.

"I-I'm sorry..." You feel a flush curling in your cheeks and you swallow down your shame.

“Egbert, jerk me off and cuddle with me, okay? Get your ass in gear, sunshine.” He looks anywhere but at you and you feel a happy little fluttering in your stomach. He doesn’t entirely want to open up to you like this, but he always does it eventually and doesn’t break that habit now. Your friendship is almost definitely based on a steady diet of half-assed pranks, shared idiocy, and a level of sincerity only achievable through a Strider-Egbert heart to heart.

You sit up, wincing slightly, and slip your head in between his knees. You roll off the condom, tossing it aside. It’s useless now, your slick, sore hole reminds you. You drag your tongue slowly up his cock. He looked so close to getting off when he started that you have no idea how he managed to hold on that long. The way he goes off in your hand is surprising, but not fully. Cum splatters against your cheek and lips, and drips sweetly across your fingers.

You look at him with a vague expression of surprise. He smirks as he shivers and mutters something that could have been “now we’re even” as you wipe your face and hand on your discarded boxers. You don’t even give a fuck about them right now. In fact, and a part of you berates yourself for thinking it, Dave’s cum on your boxers isn’t a bad thing at all. You’re sure you’ll find a use for that whole situation later.

You wrap an arm around him, your slightly tanned skin looking lovely against his gorgeous, flushed ivory. He snuggles into the embrace. It's the cutest fucking thing you've ever seen.

“I didn’t think you’d go off like that so soon,” you say, a snicker flying through your lips and hanging in the pregnant silence of the room. He looks at you, his eyes half open and that soft smile on his face that you’re still marveling at.

“Well, it’s hard to blow spunk when you’re watching your bro try not to cop to how much it’s fucking hurting him. That, though, your little tongue dance? That was hot as fuck,” he says. His voice sends little shivers through you.

"We can try again, you know, if you're up for it. Some other time, I mean, but..." You trail off, not sure if he's comfortable with the idea of another encounter.

He nods lazily. "Sounds good, Egbert." His voice is calm and soft and you feel emboldened.

“Dave.” You take the plunge. Right now, you feel like you could fly again. “I love you, Dave.”

You feel him stiffen against your chest and a quick pulse of “oh shit” beats through you before you hear a sigh.

“You mean that?” His tone is completely unreadable, and his face as it looks at you is maddeningly even.

“Yeah,” you say, throat dry.

“Good,” he says after a moment. “Me too, you dork.”

The biggest cheeseball grin blooms on your face. His hand slips up between you two and ruffles your hair. He smiles again and it means so much more than you ever thought possible.

“I’ve been waiting forever for you to say that,” he says simply, and kisses you.

Your name is John Egbert and you are soaring.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at reduxcorrelator.tumblr.com if you have any questions, comments, or critiques. Thank you for reading.


End file.
